Reinventing the Past
by Notime33
Summary: After Doc and Sam are hijacked, they return to a universe much more advanced than their own. But should they leave it be? WARNING: Some offensive language.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Sunday, November 12, 2000  
3:23 A.M.  
Lake of the Pines, California

It seemed like everyone had shown up to see the testing of the new time machine. The car, a silver 1997 Ford Thunderbird boasting the vanity TIMELESS, had been selected by Jules, who, even at the age of thirteen, was a car fanatic. Doc assumed it had something to do with the fact that they were common place objects not present when he was growing up, in the Nineteenth Century.

With Doc was Sam Powell, the twenty-one year-old who had developed his own time machine. The Iowan was now employed at Doc's new company, EBE, officially as Doc's personal assistant, but unofficially as a co-inventor.

Doc's company had been founded in 1987, when he first introduced his modified presto logs (and before he settled full-time in the "present"), and its main purpose was to market his inventions. Lately, however, it had been "taken over" by nuclear scientists working on forced fission.

Forced fission, or forced decay, was the process by which nuclear fuel was burned without producing nuclear waste, only lead. Naturally, nuclear power plants were very interested in the process, and the technology was now EBE's major product. In the two years since Doc first introduced the process (originally developed for the DeLorean's nuclear reactor, a fact unknown to the public), the company had become a major concern and Doc's net worth had exploded to $10 million.

Doc had left business decisions to the professionals, however, as he and Sam worked full-time on the new time machine. Despite their best efforts, the process took more than a year.

Doc stood next to the time machine and turned to face the small group assembled to witness the first test: Clara, Jules, Verne, Marty, and Sam's friend Cindy.

Clara, a stay-at-home mom, was currently homeschooling their children: Jules, 13, and Verne, 12. However, both she and Doc now wanted them to attend public high school, and in the next week they would be checking out Hill Valley's two high schools—Hill Valley High and Gale High—in preparation for Jules to attend one of them the next fall.

Jennifer had hoped to be there, but decided to stay home and watch her and Marty's children: Marlene, who was four days past four years old, and James Emmett, who was two.

Doc smiled as he remembered what Marty said when he learned of Marty's son's name.

"_There's no way in hell I'm naming him 'Marty Junior'," Marty had said._

"_Why?" Doc had asked. "I appreciate the gesture with his middle name, but I'm curious."_

"_Because I think it sounds so egotistical when people name their kids after themselves. I guess my other self was okay with it because Jennifer was, but, hey, you know, 'Jim' sounds like 'Jen' when you shout it across the house. So, what the hell, our kids each have names that sound like ours."_

Marty himself was still a musician, but his "day job," as it were, was as a DJ at the local AM radio station, KKHV. Lately, he had become something of a political commentator, as callers were all discussing the recent tied presidential election. As a Gore supporter in mostly Republican Hill Valley, Marty was, to his surprise, something of a shock jock, now.

Cindy had almost missed the occasion. A student at Sacramento State University, she was currently pursuing a journalism degree. In the end, she decided that the test was something she'd rather not miss, even if it meant being up at 3:00 A.M.

Doc glanced over at Sam Powell, to his right. Sam was holding a laptop, wired to the Thunderbird. The laptop would monitor the time machine's systems as they worked. Sam nodded at Doc.

"Good morning!" Doc said to everyone. "We all know we're here to witness the testing of Time Machine Number Four. Sam and I are going to take the machine ahead on a one minute jump, then ahead to 2030 for a hover conversion." The Mr. Fusion, also from 2030, had been delivered by the train and was already installed.

The Thunderbird looked less like a time machine and more like the car it had been; indeed, Marty had asked if Doc was sure it was completed. The special roll bars on the sides (called "flux bands") were there, but the vents in the rear were so small they were easy to miss. Doc explained that this was due to the Mr. Fusion reactor, which generated less heat than the DeLorean's plutonium reactor and the train's steam engine.

The inside of the Thunderbird was less cramped than the DeLorean, the train, or Sam's Volkswagen, thanks in large part to the use of future technology. It looked, in fact, not much different than a normal Thunderbird on the inside, as well.

The main control was a five inch LCD screen set into the dash, beneath the radio. The screen (actually a tablet computer) was from 2030 and had been programmed by Verne's future self, an inventor and world renowned computer genius. The display screen was voice controlled, and could display maps and other information, in addition to the current, destination, and last departed times. In addition to that, it could display all times the time machine had visited if asked.

It was also controlled by thumbprint locks, so that only authorized individuals could use the time machine. At the moment, Doc, Sam, Clara, Marty, Jennifer, and Cindy were all cleared to run the time machine.

Doc sat in the driver's seat and pressed his thumb to the screen. After a second, the screen displayed the phrase "Welcome, Emmett" in an elaborate, cursive font.

Doc said to the computer, "Time circuits on. Test mode, plus one minute, please."

The screen now displayed the destination time as "TEST".

Doc nodded and turned to Sam, "Let's get going."

Sam and Doc drove the machine to one end of the test track. They quickly accelerated to eighty-eight and disappeared in a flash of light. A tense minute later, the machine reappeared. It pulled to a stop in front of the group.

Doc rolled down the window, "Everything worked perfectly!"

Marty applauded, then stopped when the others looked at him strangely.

"Hey, I thought it called for that," he grinned.

Doc laughed, "We'll be back in a minute."

The machine disappeared again. When it reappeared, it was hovering, and it landed with a bump.

"Are you all right?" Clara asked when Doc emerged from the car.

"Fine, fine," Doc said, "We've been gone two days."

"Two _days_?" Cindy asked.

Doc nodded, "It's hard to find a hover converter in 2030, as it turns out. Sam, does the systems check look okay?"

Sam was looking at his laptop and gave thumbs up.

Doc smiled, "Then I hereby pronounce Time Machine Number Four a success!"

"Now what?" Jules asked.

"Nothing, for the moment," Doc said. Jules and Verne groaned, but Doc continued, "Sam and I will be testing another device that requires the time machine, in a few days. If that's successful, we may go on a vacation somewhere. Uh, some-_when_."

Jules shrugged.

Doc clapped his hands, "So, that's it for now!"

And with that, everyone said their goodbyes and went home.

The whole time, they didn't know that they were being watched.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Monday, November 13, 2000  
11:20 A.M.  
Hill Valley, California

Patrick Ross was angry.

A worker at EBE, Ross was not one of the nuclear scientists. Rather, he was a worker on the team that developed one of Doc's other inventions, the ReadyMade automatic breakfast maker, which debuted on Memorial Day, May 29. To Ross' fury, he found that his name was not on the patent along with the other workers, and he was determined to prove to his employer that he _was_ capable enough to deserve it.

Thanks to what he saw on Sunday morning, he now had an excellent opportunity to do so.

EBE's main headquarters was in the building that once housed the Hill Valley Telegraph, next to the Essex Theater. Doc's office gave him a terrific view of the courthouse, which was currently undergoing renovations to become the Courthouse Mall. The exit for Skyway C25—indeed, C25 itself—wouldn't be present for another ten years.

Doc was soldering wires in his latest invention when he heard a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"Sam."

"Come in."

Sam stood next to Doc and glanced at the new invention, "How much longer?"

"Just a sec'," Doc said, finishing the soldering work. "The hovercam should be done in a day or two."

The hovercam, as its name suggested, was a video camera that hovered. It wouldn't be available until 2007, but when one had a time machine that sort of problem wasn't an issue. This hovercam, however, was special in another way. It came with a cloaking device that Doc had developed, allowing for the unobtrusive monitoring of history.

It was bullet shaped, about a foot and a half long, with the camera in the "nose" which pointed down. The camera would hover at 15,000 feet and take a birds-eye view picture of more than thirty square miles at one inch resolution. The images would be stored on a million terabyte hard drive from the year 2045.

"Good," Sam said, handing Doc a piece of paper, "'Cause I've already narrowed down some destinations. I was thinking we would use the hovercam to observe the Battle of Gettysburg. Some other possibilities I've considered are Agincourt in 1415, Tours in 732, and Milvian Bridge in 312."

"All historically important events," Doc said, "Which is why I would prefer not to view them."

"Doc?"

Doc stood up and handed the paper back to Sam, "The hovercam is still experimental. What if it became visible during a battle? What if, then, the losing side viewed it as an omen and rallied to win? No, I have another idea."

"So, when and where, Doc?"

"October 16, 1824 in Lyndhurst, New Jersey," Doc said. Before Sam could ask, he said, "To witness the birth of Daniel Clayton, my father-in-law. Or at least get pictures of the town during that period. Clara requested the date."

Sam nodded, "Check, Doc."

"We can research military history when we work out the bugs in this system," Doc said.

Sam nodded and asked, "Are we teleporting to Lyndhurst?"

Teleportation, as Doc and Marty found out the hard way, was not an exact process. Indeed, it could be outright dangerous, in that one could rematerialize too high or too low, damaging the time machine.

"It's easier than driving or flying there," Doc said. "Wednesday, if my calculations are correct, you and I will set up the device in 1824, leave it hovering, and then travel forward to retrieve it at some point in 1825."

"Sounds good to me, Doc. It'll stay hovering that long?"

Doc nodded, "It's the way antigravity works. Its fuel source isn't conventional, but rather the energy of the universe. You see…"

Sam smiled and held up a hand, "You can lecture me later, Doc. Call me when the cam's ready. I've got other work to do."

"I will."

As Sam left, he nearly ran into Patrick Ross, who was listening through the door.

"Sorry!" Sam said as he left.

"Mr. Ross," Doc said, quickly hiding the hovercam, "Can I help you with anything?"

"Uh, yes," Ross improvised, "I was wondering if you had the blueprints to the breakfast maker?"

"Just a minute," Doc said, turning to his office. Papers were stacked in messy piles on nearly every available surface with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Despite this, Doc was able to locate a copy of the blueprints within a minute.

"I'll make some photocopies!" Doc said, "Follow me!"

Ross groaned inside, but followed Doc anyway on the pointless errand. He couldn't blow his cover just yet.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Wednesday, November 15, 2000  
9:16 A.M.  
Hill Valley, California

Doc's new home was an 8,000 square foot mansion, No. 2 Spyglass Court, on the hills that surrounded Hill Valley. As with his office, he had a view of the Courthouse from his home, albeit not nearly as close.

Sam arrived in his Ferrari, the sole "splurge" he had engaged in when he received his most recent, very large paycheck. To his surprise, Clara's car was gone and the Thunderbird was parked in the driveway. Doc was waiting at the door.

"Clara went to take the kids to the high school," Doc said. Today, he explained, they were discussing things with the principal of the newer high school, Gale High. Gale was most likely going to be the school Jules would start attending in a year.

"I have the camera," Doc said, holding it in his hands. "Now, the time machine is already set for 1824 in Lyndhurst, which was then called Union Township. We will travel to the township early in the morning, before sunrise, then—"

A gunshot rang out.

Time seemed to stand still.

Patrick Ross was holding a smoking gun.

"Give me the time machine, Brown," he said, "Or the kid dies."

"Great Scott," Doc whispered.

"Brown!" Ross shouted, "Don't try to fool me! I saw you test it on Sunday!"

"He can't give you the time machine," Sam said slowly, walking over and picking up the hovercam, "It works on thumbprints." He tossed the camera in the back seat.

Ross, his gun trained on Sam, growled, "You're going to take me back."

"When?" Doc asked in a quiet voice.

"Whatever your destination was," Ross said, tossing Doc in the driver's seat. He grabbed Sam and shoved him into the back seat. Ross followed, shoving his gun into Sam's neck.

With a sad glance back at his home, Doc took the time machine into the air…

* * *

Saturday, October 16, 1824  
5:00 A.M.  
Union Township, New Jersey

The world without electricity was pitch black when teletemporal displacement was complete.

"Where are we?" Ross asked.

Doc read aloud the time display, then asked, "What are you hoping to accomplish?"

"I'm going to show you what I'm capable of. Land."

With only the slightest hesitation, Doc landed the time machine in a clearing on the edge of town.

"Stay in the car!"

Doc complied, and Ross exited the car, leaving Sam behind. Now, he was pointing his gun at Doc.

"You are going back to the future," he said, "If you don't comply, I'll kill your father-in-law."

"How did you know about…?" Doc began.

Ross cocked the gun. Only now did Doc notice that it was an old-fashioned revolver. Not quite period; it was more suited for the Old West than for 1824.

"All right, we'll leave," Doc said, taking the machine to the air.

A few moments later, Sam said, "Hold on! Roll down the window."

"Sam, I can't achieve temporal displacement with an open window…"

Sam held up the camera and turned on the cloak. Doc nodded, and rolled down the window. Sam tossed the camera out.

"What do we do, Doc?"

Doc sighed, "I'll think of something. Brace yourself for teletemporal displacement."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Wednesday, November 15, 2000  
9:17 A.M.  
Hill Valley, California

Though Doc didn't know what Ross intended to change, it was immediately clear that the world _had_ changed.

Doc swerved hard to the right, knocking over Sam, who wasn't wearing a seatbelt.

"What the hell was that?!" Sam shouted.

"Flying car," Doc said. They had rematerialized in the middle of a skyway.

"What?" Sam asked, "How's that possible? When are we, Doc?"

"One minute after our departure from 2000, according to the time circuits," Doc said, "Around 2050, if what I see means anything."

Sam looked out the window. The buildings he could see looked like an odd fusion of Victorian and contemporary styling.

Traffic was slow, too. According to the speedometer they were doing forty-three, and they were by far the fastest vehicle on the skyway.

"Look at the cars, Doc!"

The cars were strange as well, exhibiting the same Victorian/Modern fusion as the homes below. They resembled the carriage-like or "Quadricycle" forms of the early twentieth century, but with advanced materials in their construction. Most were open to the air, their drivers wearing goggles and scarves to protect themselves from the cold air at their altitude. They gaped at the Thunderbird as it went by.

"We need to land," Doc said, "Can you see my house? It should be some distance behind us."

"There's no houses on the hills, Doc," Sam said after glancing out the back window, "It's like they never existed."

"They in all likelihood never did," Doc said, before turning to look out his window at Hill Valley, "At least the courthouse still exists, but the town's layout is largely unlike anything I've ever seen."

"So what do we do?"

"Find a place to land."

They landed in the alley between what were in the old timeline the Café 70's and the Texaco station. Doc felt a strange sense of déjà vu as they did so. Doc locked the car, and the pair walked silently into downtown.

From the alley, it was clear that the Courthouse clock was still stopped. The shops were nothing like any Doc or Sam had ever seen. To their left, where the Café 70's and Blast from the Past were supposed to be, was a single location called "The Palace Bar", while to their right was "Statler Automotive". The Courthouse appeared roughly as it would in 2015, with a duck pond, though the edifice identified it still as the "Hill Valley Courthouse."

As they entered the town square, they found that, besides the Courthouse, only the Bluebird Motel building was familiar; everything else had changed—or, perhaps, never was. The Bank of America was now the "Televisor Center", while the Essex had disappeared and was replaced by smaller shops along Hill Street.

The people were dressed in a style that exhibited that same strange contemporary/Victorian fusion that was seemingly characteristic of this new timeline. Women wore dresses that were of an old-fashioned style, but lacking corsets. The men all wore trousers and button-down shirts with very high collars. However, like shirts of the old timeline, their shirts bore colorful prints and occasionally logos.

Public phones were along the side of Statler Automotive, next to the alleyway; surprisingly in the same spot they were located in the old world. Doc walked up to one. He was only slightly surprised to see that they were videophones rather than audio phones.

"Phonebook, please," he said.

The phone responded with a display reading "PHONE-BOOK: State Search Term."

"Doctor Emmett Brown, please."

Doc gasped at the resultant information displayed on the phone's screen:

BROWN, Emmett and Clara; Jules and Verne  
1640 Riverside Drive  
Hill Valley  
(ADH) 2R-CX6

"What?" Sam asked, "What is it?"

"1640 Riverside Drive," Doc said slowly, "It's the house where I grew up. It burned down in 1961."

"Not anymore," Sam said, "So what do we do? Go there?"

"I'm not sure," Doc said.

"Why not?" Sam said, "Theoretically speaking, our counterparts native to this world disappeared as we entered it."

"_Theoretically_, yes." Doc tapped the side of the phone, considering. After a moment, he ordered "Call."

An animation appeared reading "CONNECTING", and stayed there longer than Doc would have expected. After about a minute, Clara appeared.

"Emmett!" Clara shouted, "I thought you were in your lab!"

"Perhaps I was," Doc muttered to himself, before asking, "Is the date November 15, 2000?"

"Yes, why?" Clara's eyes narrowed, "Did you use the time machine? Did something change?"

"Something changed _severely_," Doc said, "The entire world is more technologically advanced than it was when we left it."

"I see," Clara said slowly, "Come home. We'll talk."

Clara closed the connection.

Doc sighed and began walking to the car. Sam followed.

"Should we fix this, Doc?" Sam asked, "Look at the progress the world has gone through! Perhaps this is a better place."

"Perhaps," Doc said, "We will eventually gain memories of this world if we stay long enough. It took Marty seven days before he remembered time as it was _after_ he changed history. It'll take us longer, since the change in the timeline occurred further in the past."

"About nineteen days," Sam said. Doc turned to stare at him, "What? It's a simple enough calculation."

Doc shook his head, laughed, and got in the car.

They never noticed the "WHITES ONLY" sign at the entrance to the Palace Bar.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Wednesday, November 15, 2000  
9:36 A.M.  
Hill Valley, California

To Doc's surprise, a fence surrounded his house at 1640 Riverside Drive, and the gate was not automated. A middle-aged black man appeared and opened the gate by hand, tipping his hat as Doc drove by. Odd.

The house and the garage were still there, both largely as Doc remembered. However, the property was much larger, with other outbuildings—seemingly other _homes_—scattered about. A large building was behind the main house; a sign on the entrance identified it as "The Workshop".

One of the "quadricycles" was parked out in front of the garage. Doc parked next to it.

"'Mercedes-Benz F350,'" Sam read from the back of the quadricycle, gently feeling the hood, "The main material appears to be carbon fiber."

"Interesting," Doc said, "That shouldn't become common in cars until 2020 or so. Let's go inside."

Sam turned around, gaping at everything, as they walked towards the front door, "So you grew up in with all of this?!"

Doc shook his head, "Just the main building and the garage. The other buildings didn't exist when I lived here."

Doc knocked on the door. It opened immediately. Clara was there. Doc looked at her carefully. She was wearing an old-fashioned outfit, a purple dress that resembled the one she wore on that fateful day back in 1885, but lacking a corset.

"I figured you wouldn't have a key," she said, "I ordered all of the slaves out of the house. Jules and Verne are in their rooms, working on their schoolwork. We have the house to ourselves. Tell me exactly what happened."

Something she said seemed odd to Doc, but she was speaking so fast he didn't catch it.

Clara saw Sam for the first time and gasped, "Samuel! What are you doing here?"

"He was assisting me with the time machine," Doc said, looking at the interior of the house. Its layout was as he remembered, but the furniture was not. It matched neither his nor Clara's tastes, as he knew them, but rather seemed like they came out of a model home from the future—the old future.

"Um, how do you know me, Clara?" Sam asked.

"Mrs. Brown," Clara corrected automatically, "And I know that you invented a tiome machine as well, but you're supposed to be in Iowa right now."

Clara led them into the living room and sat on the couch. Doc and Sam sat on the couch directly opposite her. Doc explained their story.

"Fascinating," Clara said, "I think your 'Patrick Ross' is a man named Peter Ross."

"Who was he?" Sam asked.

"Inventor of the AC motor, automobile, and light bulb," she said, "My father knew him very well, since he lived in my home town."

A chill went up and down Doc's spine, "What about the time machines? Do our children know about them?"

"Of course they do!" Clara said, "What a question!"

"I was wondering why you sent them out of the room. And you mentioned servants?"

"Slaves. Emmett, we inherited them from your father. And the children…"

If Doc had thought he felt a chill earlier, it was nothing to compared to what he felt now.

"Did you say _'slaves'_, Clara?" Sam interrupted.

"Mrs. Brown," Clara corrected again, annoyed at the interruption. "And yes. Why is that a problem? Did we not have any when you left?"

"GREAT SCOTT!" Doc shouted, leaping to his feet as if his rear end had been burned, "NO ONE had slaves when we left!"

Clara wrinkled her nose at that, "That's absurd."

Doc began pacing the room, while Sam sat, shocked.

Clara looked back and forth between the pair, confused, "How could we do without slavery, Emmett?"

"My God, Clara! The world's done so for one hundred thirty-seven years, thank you!"

"There's no need to be harsh, Emmett."

"There's every need to be harsh!" Doc shouted, "Slavery! How on earth…!"

Clara sighed and leaned back in the couch. She said aloud, "Computer!"

A hologram appeared above the coffee table, displaying the home page for Doc's company in this universe. An EBE logo was superimposed over a picture of North America.

"What does Doc do for a living?" Sam asked.

"Arms," Clara said simply, "Computer, search American History." She turned to Doc, "I promised you once that I would help you repair history if such a need arose, even if such a change appeared horrifying to me."

"I remember," Doc said, glad that that remained the same.

"Well, we're in that situation now, and Emmett, I intend to keep that promise. Please sit down."


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Wednesday, November 15, 2000  
12:56 P.M.

Doc sent Sam out of the room, wanting a private discussion with Clara. Clara-B, as Sam thought of her (since she was from "timeline B," whereas he was from "timeline A"), seemed largely similar to Clara-A, with the exception of more than a hint of racism. She had offered to call Cindy, who was still a student in Sacramento, but Sam decided against it, in case Cindy-B was as racist as Clara-B. Some things were best left unknown.

Sam walked around the house, trying not to touch anything. He didn't know what half the objects in the house were for and what they would do, after all. He found Jules-B in his room, with goggles on his face. He was talking and pacing. Sam assumed he was using some form of virtual reality to attend school.

With the house explored, Sam went to the garage.

The place seemed eerily quiet, despite the fact that the television was on in the corner. Sam went to turn it off, but could find no switch. The TV—identified by its label as a Quatro™ Televisor—was only a few millimeters thick and had no buttons.

"Off," Sam said aloud. The televisor switched off.

Sam sighed and looked around the building. It was unusually neat and clean, not at all like Doc's lab back home. Perhaps Doc-B was a neater person than Doc-A.

The centerpiece of the room was what appeared to be large stagecoach. Judging by the flux bands on the side and the fusion reactor on the back, the silver plastic stage was this world's time machine.

Alongside one wall was a worktable. A neat pile of iPad-like devices were on one side, though one had fallen to the floor.

_I wonder if Doc-B dropped this when he vanished_, Sam thought.

He picked the iPad up. A schematic of some sort was displayed.

The only other object on the table was a rifle.

Suddenly, Clara's remark about "arms" made sense.

"Arms," Sam whispered, "Doc-B is an arms producer."

The rifle seemed old-fashioned, like an Old West Winchester. A large, golden colored scope was attached on top.

Sam gently touched the rifle. It was made of wood, with silver inlay. The inlay in the stock spelled out, in cursive, "Emmett Lloyd Brown, PhD."

"I thought his middle name was 'Lathrop'," Sam whispered, gently fingering the gun. He himself wasn't a "gun nut" by any means, but growing up in Elmdale meant he was more than familiar with firearms, and this was an impressive piece.

A scream broke the silence.

Sam grabbed the rifle and ran to the window.

A mob of some sort had broken into the property. A short, familiar-looking red-haired man walked boldly to the front door and pounded on it.

"Hey, Doctor!" the man shouted, "We got a nigger here who's begging for a lynching!"

"Oh, shit!" Sam whispered, opening the window.

Doc ran outside and shouted, "Marty! What on earth are you doing?"

"Sorry, Doctor," Marty said, "But this nigger was found with a white woman. You know what happens then."

Someone had strung a noose up in the tree next to Doc's house.

"Wait, Marty!"

"Oh, can the cautious act, Doctor," Marty said, slipping the noose around the black man's neck.

"Doctor, please!" he cried, "I didn't do anything!"

"String him up!" Marty shouted, to the cheers of the crowd

The man grasped futilely at the noose as he was raised off the ground.

Sam leveled the rifle, spotted the rope in the scope and pulled the trigger.

The man fell to the ground.

"Don't move McFly!" Sam shouted through the open window, "This thing's pointed straight at your head!"

"Doctor," Marty began.

"No, Marty. I want all of you off my property!" Doc shouted. He bent down to the man and said something Sam couldn't hear at his distance. The man nodded.

Marty gestured at the crowd, and they headed for the gate. Marty said something to Doc. Doc said something back, angrily. Marty shrugged and walked away.

After he was gone, Sam emerged from the garage.

"He's going to be fine," Doc said when he was close enough. Sam noticed that Clara was standing on the porch, looking confused.

Doc patted the man on the shoulder, "You remember Goldie Wilson, don't you?" Doc said to Sam.

"Owner of Goldie's Negro Bar," he said, "I be much obliged for your shootin', suh."

"Thanks," Sam said. He had met the former mayor of Hill Valley once before, and he didn't have such a thick accent in the old world. It was also curious that he owned a bar; perhaps some free black men were still around.

"But I ain't gonna be able to leave this property without being hunted down again," Goldie said, "Suh, you got some place for me to stay?"

Doc nodded and turned towards Clara, "We do have a guest room where he could stay?"

Clara paused and looked away before saying, "I'll ready the guest room."

As he guided Goldie towards the house, Doc said, "Sam, Clara and I have made a major breakthrough and I'll need to talk to you in a moment."

"Check, Doc."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Wednesday, November 15, 2000  
1:23 P.M.

After Goldie Wilson was settled in one of the guest rooms, Doc sat down with Sam in the parlor, alone.

"We know Patrick Ross altered history," he said, "That much is obvious. How that alteration became the universe we now inhabit took the efforts of myself and Clara to figure out. Computer, map of the United States."

A holograph of the United Sates appeared in the air in front of them. To Sam's surprise, it included all of the old United States, Canada, and Mexico. Only the states east of the Mississippi seemed familiar.

"As you can see, the United States is much larger than it used to be. That is an indirect result of Ross' actions."

"How?" Sam asked.

Doc took a deep breath, "I should start from the beginning. In 1827 Mr. Ross, acting under the name 'Peter Ross', first patented the electric motor. By 1835, the infrastructure necessary for modern society followed: power plants, power lines, light bulbs, et cetera.

"One of Ross' 'inventions' was the fuel cell motor. With this device, others were able to develop the tank, which entered the United States armed forces. Computer, show map of the United States in 1840."

The image did not seem different from what Sam knew of American history. Texas, marked as an independent country, was against the western border of the United Sates. Most of the west was marked as Mexican territory, with the Oregon Territory (including old Washington state and Idaho) marked as "disputed between Britain and America."

Doc continued, "In 1845, war broke out between the United States and Mexico over the status of Texas, which wanted to become a U.S. state. With the advantage of mechanized infantry, the United States was able to completely conquer Mexico.

"This led to the question of whether Mexico would be admitted as a state, or several states, and whether those would be free states or slave states. President Tyler reached a compromise, one which allowed him a second term, and one which brought slavery to the new state of El Dorado, which is made up of our northern California and Nevada."

Next, an image of the compromise appeared in the air, showing slave states in red. They included most of the western United States in the old timeline, and most of northern Mexico in the old timeline as well.

"So with this compromise," Sam said, "Slavery was able to endure. Shit."

"I know," Doc said.

"I can't believe this!" Sam shouted. "You know, when I first saw this world, I thought it was a better place, that maybe we should leave it be."

Doc nodded, "You made the error of assuming that technological advancement was the same as societal advancement. But Sam, technology is neither good nor evil, people are."

"And the people of 1824 weren't ready for high technology, so they used it for evil."

"Exactly!" Doc said, pleased that Sam was following.

Sam sat back in the couch, "So what do we do now?"

"We retrieve the hovercam," Doc said, "That was a smart move, setting it up. We use it to track Ross down, and then we, uh, 'apprehend' him."

"And then what?"

Doc hesitated, "I'm not sure. We certainly can't kill him! I think that, once we restore the original world, we will make sure that he never finds out about the time machine; thus, he'll never be able to create this twisted world in the first place."

Sam nodded and said, "How did he find out about the time machine? He never told us, you know."

Doc said, "He worked at the Lake of the Pines facility where we first tested the machine. I imagine he was working late one night and…" he shrugged. "We'll find out."

Sam wasn't too sure, however. "He knew about your father-in-law. He must've overheard us when we were planning the original trip."

"Perhaps," Doc said, "Though I'm pretty sure I know _why_ he did what he did. Remember, he did say he would 'show us what he could do'."

"So? You know what he can do, right? I mean, he does work for you."

"Well, I think he may be upset about the ReadyMade patent. If I recall, he was a member of that project but not mentioned by name. He may feel unappreciated because of that. Still, to go this far…Great Scott!"

Sam thought Doc was taking a pretty big leap, but he didn't say anything.

Doc changed the subject and asked, "Where did you find that rifle? I had a similar one in the Old West, but I left it there."

"It was in Doc-B's lab," Sam said.

"'Doc-B'?"

Sam explained how he thought of the denizens of this timeline as "B's". He also described finding the other time machine in Doc-B's lab.

"Fascinating," Doc said, "So there's another time machine here?"

"It has to be. It certainly _looks_ like another time machine."

Doc thought for a moment, "We need to take it with us."

"Doc?"

"Sam, you know full well that time machines themselves are immune to changes in time. They alone cannot be erased from history. Having a souvenir from an alternate timeline could be useful to study. It could offer a window into the timeline-changing process."

Sam smiled, "And it may help us in another way, too. I think I have a plan."

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

Doc opened it to find Marty there, leaning on the doorframe and out of breath.

"Marty!" Doc hissed, "What in the name of Sir Isaac H. Newton are you doing here?!"

"Had to come, Doctor!" He said in between breaths, "The Vigilance Committee was not happy about you rescuing that nigger."

"Wilson," Doc said angrily, "His name is Wilson."

"Whatever!" Marty snapped, "Listen! They're coming round in about fifteen minutes, a hundred of 'em. More. They're gonna make you lynch him or they'll torch the house."

"Great Scott!"

"I think it's time we got out of here," Sam said, standing up, "Marty."

"Samuel," Marty said, following Doc out to the garage, "What's up, anyway? Why did you care about that—hey, what's this?"

Marty stood next to the Thunderbird.

"It involves time travel, Marty," Doc said, "Let's leave it at that. Sam, could you show me the other time machine?"

Sam did, but they needed Marty to show them how to open and use it. Inside were velvet seats, a steering stick rather than a steering wheel, and a bank of knobs. One of them was labeled "cloaking device".

"Perfect!" Sam said; to Doc, "I'll explain in a minute. When are we going?"

"January 1, 1825, Union Township sounds good," Doc said, turning the stagecoach on. "I'll take this, since my other self designed it, I should be able to figure out how it works. You take the Thunderbird."

"Check, Doc."

"Hey, Doctor!" Marty said.

"What?"

Marty hesitated, and then smiled, "Good luck with whatever you have to do."

Doc smiled back, "Thank you, Marty."

Moments later, they were in the air and in time.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Saturday, October 16, 1824  
7:23 A.M.  
Union Township, New Jersey

After they retrieved the hovercam, it was relatively easy to track Patrick Ross with it, as he was dressed in modern clothes. With the video, Doc and Sam were able to see that he spent the night in the woods before entering town. He passed through an alley at 7:23 A.M., which seemed like a perfect place to corner him.

Doc landed the stagecoach at one end of the alley. Like the hovercam, the stagecoach came equipped with a cloaking device. Therefore, if Ross tried to run, he'd run right into the invisible stage.

Ross entered the alleyway. Sam, who was hiding behind him, spun around, blocking the only exit.

"Freeze, Ross!" he shouted, pointing Doc-B's rifle at him.

Ross slowly turned around, leveling his revolver at Sam, "Didn't I make myself clear? You were to leave."

"We _did_ leave," Doc said, appearing from his hiding place behind Ross, his back to the invisible stagecoach, "And we saw what you did. You created a modern society in the nineteenth century."

"I haven't done anything yet!" Ross said.

"You're not thinking fourth dimensionally!" Doc said, "We went to the _future_, where what you had done was in the past."

"But you miscalculated," Sam said, "The people of this time were not ready for advanced technology. They used it to preserve slavery."

Ross considered this for a moment, "You're bluffing. They'd have no reason to preserve slavery! You can't stop me!"

He leveled the gun at Sam and fired. Fortunately for Sam, he didn't aim well, and the bullet flew past his head with a foot to spare.

Sam raised the rifle, but hesitated in pulling the trigger. That extra moment was enough for Ross to shove past him and run out onto Third Street.

"Wait, Patrick!" Doc shouted, following him.

An old man was in the street, blocking Ross' way.

Doc shouted, "Run! He has a gun!"

Ross leveled his gun at the man, yelling, "Get out of my way!"

In a matter of seconds, the man pulled a gun of his own out of his coat and fired at Ross' chest. Ross fell to the ground.

Sam, stunned, ran to Ross and felt for a pulse. There was none.

"Jesus," Sam whispered. He had seen dead bodies before (such as at his grandfather's funeral), but this was different.

The man who had killed him seemed nervous, "Can I ask what happened here?"

"Emmet Brown, sheriff from Pennsylvania," Doc said, "That was Patrick Ross, a robber. Thank you; you did the right thing, Mister…?"

"Jedediah Maxwell, at your service," the man said, tipping his hat.

A chill ran up Doc's spine, _Jedediah Maxwell_, he thought, _Clara's mother's grandfather! Great Scott!_

"You're a good shot, Mr. Maxwell," Sam said, as people emerged from their houses and began to congregate.

"Sheriff!" Doc shouted, "Stand clear!"

"Served in The War," Maxwell said proudly, certain that Doc and Sam would know which war.

Doc nodded, "Excuse me, I need to talk to my deputy."

"'Sheriff from Pennsylvania'?" Sam whispered to Doc.

"We should leave," Doc said, taking the gun from Ross' corpse, "We have to take this with us. It shouldn't be invented for several more years!"

"And just leave him here?!" Sam asked.

"Don't worry, Sam," Doc said, "This shouldn't interrupt your plan."

"Right, right," Sam said, looking over his shoulder at Ross' corpse. Maxwell and another man were standing over it.

"What do we do with him?" Maxwell asked.

"Let us talk to your sheriff," Doc said, forced to lie, "We'll be back in a moment." To Sam, he whispered, "Quickly! Get in the stage!"

Minutes later, the stagecoach was in the air, and just as quickly landed next to the Thunderbird, which was hidden in a field.

"We're going to return to Hill Valley," Doc said, "With Ross' death, the timeline we saw should have been erased."

"I know, Doc."

Doc nodded, "Hopefully, when you complete your mission, Ross' death will be undone, and Mr. Maxwell won't be in any trouble. Do you know where you're going?"

Sam nodded, "May 1, 2000. I'll tell your past self to ensure Ross' name is on the patent. Don't worry; I won't stick around then long and I won't reveal anything."

Docs nodded again, "Then let's get going."


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Wednesday, November 15, 2000  
9:18 A.M.  
Hill Valley, California

Thankfully, the future as they knew it was waiting for them when they returned to May 2000. Sam's change undid Ross' meddling and, apparently, discovery of the time machine, since they were able to observe their original departure, which was undisturbed this time. Ross was also alive and well.

Doc and Sam landed the Thunderbird and the uncloaked stage in Doc's driveway.

"What now?" Sam asked.

"I think I'm going to take a nap," Doc said, sounding exhausted.

Sam understood, but was concerned, "What happens when Clara and the kids discover the stagecoach? Even if you cloak it, they'll walk right into it."

Doc groaned, "Can you wait around and tell them? They should be back around eleven."

Sam nodded, "Sure, Doc."

"Golly," Clara whispered when Sam finished his story, "That sounds horrible!"

They were sitting around the coffee table in the living room. Doc was asleep on one of the couches, while the others were sitting on a couch next to his.

"It _was_ horrible," Sam said, "You don't know how weird it was to see Marty lead a lynch mob!"

"I'm glad you fixed things," Jules said, "Though I wouldn't have known the difference if you'd failed."

Sam nodded, "That's one of the dangerous things about time travel. You might not know if history has changed, because to you, it hasn't."

"'Cause to you, it's just history," Verne said.

Sam nodded, "I couldn't have put it better myself."

Clara had a far-off look on her face, "Tell me again, what was the name of the man who shot Mr. Ross?"

Sam had to think for a moment, "Jedediah Maxwell. Why? Did you know him?"

Doc started snoring.

"He was my great-grandfather," Clara said, "Veteran of the Revolutionary War. He died in 1828."

"So he met our great-great-grandpa?" Verne asked, "Cool!"

"It'd be nice to actually meet our relatives," Jules said.

"Absolutely not!" Clara said, though her voice lacked the firmness that indicated she meant it.

Verne opened his mouth to protest, but Jules cut him off with, "Why did the other, uh, universe's time machine survive? Shouldn't it have been erased from history?"

"You'd think," Sam said, "But it's just one of the weird aspects of time travel. A time machine cannot be erased from history. I can't really explain it without mathematics."

"Oh."

Sam stood, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to take care of something else."

Sam was nervous as the Thunderbird touched down in the parking lot at Sac State. He spent nearly a minute tapping his fingers on the steering wheel before getting out and walking over to the building that contained Cindy's dorm.

He spent another minute or so standing outside the door before knocking.

Cindy answered almost immediately.

"Sam! What are you doing here?"

"It's been a rough day, Cindy. Is your roommate here?"

"No," Cindy said, rolling her eyes, "She's never here."

"Good. I'd like to talk."

"Sure. Come in."

END


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